


Love, Actually

by WennyT



Series: Writing Challenges for Yunho x Changmin [5]
Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Ocean's Eleven, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Presents, Prompt Fic, Slash, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be. Nine moments of Yunho and Changmin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Puppets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/gifts), [spellonyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellonyou/gifts), [4ureyesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=4ureyesonly), [bambishim](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bambishim), [whatkindoftea (haeli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/gifts), [powerfulsmiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulsmiles/gifts).



> Originally posted on Tumblr. Many thanks to the above-mentioned persons for their prompts and support.

* * *

Prompt: Puppets.

* * *

 

 

_After the recording for Music Japan on a certain day in July, 2012_

 

”Hyung-deul, go sit in front with the driver, please.” Yunho barks out as soon as they’re all safely in the van. Their managers sigh, but slink to the front row.

 

“And Jongsook,” he addresses the driver, “take the long way to the company. Thanks.”

 

"Now. You." He turns, caging Changmin in between his arms, and leans in close. "You want a divorce, huh?"

 

Changmin does not back up. He lifts his chin, defiant. “You’re the one who complained to all of them that I wasn’t picking up after you like some silly housewife.”

 

"But you are a housewife," Yunho says, ducking reflexively when Changmin aims a fist at his head. "My housewife," he amends, tightening his grip about Changmin even as the latter tries to struggle.

 

It is all for show, though. Yunho buries his face into the side of Changmin’s neck and breathes, relishing in the scent of make-up and sweat and Changmin. "Mine."

 

"Yours, huh." Changmin arches an eyebrow and tosses his head, revelling in the attention. But his attempt at being haughty fails the next second, when he chokes out an indignant squawk, because Yunho is slipping his other arm under Changmin’s knees and heaving Changmin onto his lap unceremoniously. "What the- What the hell are you doing, Jung? Put me down, they’ll see!"

 

"You mean manager hyung-deul? Eh, they’re used to it, remember." Yunho mumbles around Changmin’s ear, which he is currently worrying between his teeth.

 

"The fuck, Jung, are you in heat or something? Get- _off_!" Changmin shoves at Yunho’s chest, but it is like pushing against a wall. Time to resort to dirty tricks.

 

He elbows Yunho in the stomach, feeling momentarily triumphant what that makes Yunho release Changmin’s ear with a muffled “ouch”. But his success is short-lived, because that makes Yunho push up Changmin’s top to give a pinch at a flat nipple in revenge.

 

"Ow!" Changmin hisses, glaring at Yunho’s smug face, and trying to ignore the spike of arousal running through him. Damn this stupid idiot.


	2. Elevator

* * *

Prompt: Stuck in an elevator.

* * *

 

 

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit." Changmin stabs at the buttons furiously. "Shit."

 

”Changminnie, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Yunho asks, moving forward from where he was standing at the back of the lift. “Is the elevator not moving? Are we stuck?”

 

"Fuck." Changmin slams a hand onto the red alarm button and groans in frustration when there is no ear-splitting ring of noise. "Fuck. I think so."

 

"Changmin-" Yunho tries to say, but Changmin ignores him, pressing down hard on the intercom button and all but yelling into it instead. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Oy! This is Tohoshinki and we’re stuck in your fucking lift!"

 

No response. Changmin kicks at the panel, scowling furiously. “Fuck!”

 

"Changmin-ah." Yunho rubs comforting hands down his shoulders, to his arms. "Calm down."

 

"I can’t calm down, hyung," Changmin gripes, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "There’s no more work for the day, so no one is going to come looking for us actively, and- fuck! I have no reception. Check yours."

 

Yunho slips both hands into his pockets but he feels nothing, and he looks back up helplessly at Changmin, who groans out a, “I’m so fucking dumb” and shoves his free hand into his other pocket. Yunho’s phone is in his other hand now, and he swipes at it, glaring at the screen. “Fuck. No reception too.”

 

They are silent for a while, then-

 

"No, really, hyung, what are we going to do?" The words come out short and clipped as Changmin runs a hand through his hair. He is more than a little startled when he feels Yunho’s hands about his waist, working at his belt. "Wait- what-"

 

"I don’t know about you," Yunho murmurs, bottom lip caught between even white teeth. "But I’m going to make you calm down before we think about anything else."

 

"No, wait, hyung, this is crazy- what about security cameras- Hnngh-" Changmin chokes and stutters as Yunho pulls his boxer briefs down and slides to his knees in one smooth move, leaning forward to take all of Changmin into his mouth.


	3. Swimming Pool

* * *

Prompt: Swimming pool.

* * *

 

"I thought we were here to practice swimming?" Yunho questions, gasping the words out against Changmin’s lips. They are warm compared to the cool water about them, and he relishes in the soft press of their mouths, slick with saliva and chlorinated water.

 

”I lied,” Changmin breaths in return, content to lick at the inside of Yunho’s cheek. His boyfriend gives a half-moan, half-laugh. “That tickles.”

 

Changmin nips hard on Yunho’s bottom lip for daring to laugh at him while they are doing something as serious as making out, but it just makes Yunho laugh harder. He loosens his arm about Changmin’s waist and lifts it up, loving the natural buoyancy it achieves in the water, and brushes his fingers through Changmin’s hair. He pushes it up and out of the other’s eyes, tracing a nail over Changmin’s arched eyebrow and the high wing of Changmin’s cheekbone. “You’re beautiful,” he offers, brushing his thumb along the curve of Changmin’s jaw.

 

"And you’re being dumb," Changmin retorts, but there’s no bite in the words. Yunho moans and presses closer, tucking his legs between Changmin’s. "I love it when you talk dirty."

 

"Idiot." Changmin tries but he cannot quite suppress his smile. Yunho tucks his head at the crook of Changmin’s neck and tries for a simper, sounding horridly like the new female trainees they had bumped into the other day at the company. "Now, Changmin-oppa, don’t you think you should stop kissing your amazingly hot boyfriend and start practicing your freestyle? We wouldn’t want you to lose on national TV again, would we?"

 

Changmin widens his eyes into a mock glare and slaps a wet palm onto Yunho’s face, earning a squawk from the other. “Go die.”


	4. Wooden Box

* * *

Prompt: Yunho finds out Changmin has kept every card he has ever given the younger man in a really beautiful wooden box.

* * *

 

"Ugh, where is the stupid folder-" Yunho mutters, rummaging through the drawers of the gigantic desk Changmin has installed in his workroom. He had come up to Changmin’s place to use his shower and had answered a text from the younger man enquiring his whereabouts. Yunho had replied "your home" without another thought, and now Changmin had ordered him to look for the folder containing his composed lyrics like some common errand boy.

 

"Couldn’t even try to throw in some aegyo when he wants me to do him a favour," Yunho mutters sullenly, closing yet another drawer when it yields nothing but packets of snacks and computer games. He pulls open the bottom-most drawer.

 

It’s empty except for a beautifully crafted wooden box, decorated with mother-of-pearl inlay and brilliantly polished. Yunho feels a prickle of curiosity, which he promptly indulges by unclasping the lock and flipping the top of the box open. It’s all right, he reasons to himself. It’s Changmin.

 

Cards. Lots of them. Cards that he made, Yunho realises with a start, recognising his own handwriting. He reaches out a hand to ruffle through them, and it dawns on him that all the cards he had given Changmin on the latter’s birthday are here, first ugly, homemade cards when they were trainees, then prettier, store-bought cards with his clumsy scrawling all over them after their debut.

 

The cards he gave Changmin as a joke as here too. Christmas cards, White Day cards, Chuseok cards, New Year cards. Yunho swallows about the lump in his throat. Changmin had always acted as though it was a chore to accept the cards Yunho had handed to him, grumbling that they were ugly and embarrassing.

 

To see that he has kept them all, after all these years. Yunho clenches his jaw and tries to suppress the hot rush of emotions in him. He scrubs at his eyes roughly, but look up at the sounds of running.

 

Changmin slides to a halt by his doorway, panting. “Yunho, wait, it’s okay, I’ll look for it myself- Shit. You saw- shit.”

 

"Yeah. I did," Yunho gives a scuffing pat at the stacks of cards bundled neatly together in the small box. "Didn’t know you kept them all."

 

Changmin clears his throat and shuffles on his feet, a little awkward dance of left-to-right. “Yeah. Um. Well. Seemed kind of bad to dump them, so…” He ventures a glance at Yunho and tacks on hastily after seeing the expression on the other’s face. “no, don’t be an idiot, Jung, don’t read too much into it!”

 

"Too late," Yunho smiles, heart full to the brim and bursting with- something. He does not dare to put a name to that emotion.


	5. Minnie Mouse

* * *

Prompt: Changmin’s slightly miffed about the whole Minnie Mouse comment at their fan meeting.

* * *

 

"Minnie mouse?" Changmin grouses, kicking Yunho in the shin. Their fan meeting is finally done and they are in Changmin’s apartment for supper, because Changmin does not think he can stand ten seconds in the pigsty Yunho calls home. "Minnie mouse, Jung? Are you asking for a beating?"

 

Yunho beams at him, cheeks stuffed with dalk galbi until they puff out like a chipmunk’s. There’s a smear of grease at the edge of his mouth. “Ewrukricmonehmewse,” he garbles.

 

"Don’t speak with your mouth full," Changmin snaps automatically, raising an eyebrow when Yunho scrunches his face at Changmin. "What? It’s true. I’ll say you have no manners, but I’ve met your mum and  _she’s_  lovely.”

 

Yunho makes an effort to swallow, and Changmin winces at the audible gulp. Disgusting. In any case, Yunho’s voice is clear when he enunciates, “I said, you looked like [Minnie Mouse](http://disney-stationary.com/coloring-book/Minnie-Mouse/Minnie-Mouse-Color-Page4.jpg). In [that outfit](http://31.media.tumblr.com/d793361877c3b4f220e3bea345367a03/tumblr_mub1xizhSm1qzjb04o1_1280.jpg).”

 

"I fucking dare you to say that again." Changmin bares his teeth and grabs for the nearest heavy object, which happens to be an empty  _soju_  bottle. Yunho rolls his eyes and reaches out to wrestle it away. They grapple at the bottle, grunting from the effort exerted, but Yunho finally manages to confiscate it from Changmin’s grasp albeit with some difficulty. “But you do! You know, with the sleeves and the- the-  _you know_.”

 

"No, I don’t know, U-know." Mocks Changmin, while rolling his eyes. Yunho waves his hands about in his enthusiasm, nearly knocking over the opened packet of crisps lying dangerously near the edge of the coffee table. "Just- you know, your hair and then there was those sleeves and it was like gloves, and your shirt, and-"


	6. Legos

* * *

 

Bonus: And somehow, the Legos find their way to Yunho's Seoul apartment because Changmin is there more often than not. And sometimes he's absentminded and sticks Lego blocks into his pockets and they fall out when they do their laundry.

* * *

 

”-ow, the fu-” There’s pain exploding at the bottom of his feet, white hot and fierce, and Yunho looks down, afraid that he has stepped on broken glass he has somehow forgotten.

 

It is not glass, but a knobbly little piece of Lego block, red and worn with its round ridges chipped from use. Sighing, Yunho picks it up and slips it into the pocket of his jammy shorts. Changmin probably forgot to pack it back into his bag the last time he was over for Legos and soju.

 

Oh well. At least he has one more piece of Changmin in his flat. Still hurts like hell, though.

 

"It’s okay," Yunho closes his eyes and tells himself. "Because it’s Changminnie’s, it doesn’t hurt." Maybe if he says it more, it will come true.

 

-

 

"Jung Yun _Ho_!”  Yunho winces at the roar emitting from his kitchen. He pokes his head in by the doorway, but there is no one hundred and eighty-five (“One hundred and eighty-five point five, okay.”) centimetres of fire-breathing dragon in the room. Oh.

 

He ventures deeper into the lion’s den, not even realising he is tiptoeing until an irritable “stop fucking walking on your toes, I can hear you anyway” issues from the laundry room.

 

"Er… yes." Yunho shuffles into the laundry room, trying his best to look contrite for whatever he has done now. Maybe he forgot to separate his coloureds and whites again? "Yes, Changminnie?"

 

"Why the fuck is there a Lego block in your washing machine?" Changmin glares up at him, seated on a stool  and surrounded by wet clothing draped neatly on bamboo poles.

 

"Er- er- I-" Yunho does not quite know either.

 

"And I think the block belongs to me, too," Changmin snaps, even as he is hanging the rest of Yunho’s t-shirts up to dry. "The fuck, Jung?"

 

"I have no idea?" Yunho grins helplessly at Changmin. When in doubt, distract Changmin with his smile.

 

It works. Changmin flushes and turns back to the laundry with a little grumble, but his ears are red and he does not look up at Yunho again until all of the wet clothes have been hung up to dry.

 


	7. Photography

Changmin likes to take pictures of Yunho. He has photographs of Yunho on his phone, in his tablet, stored away on his many cameras. It’s a fact that amuses Yunho to no end, and the older man takes any chance he gets to tease Changmin about it. 

"Shall I pose, Changminnie?" He will ask, sidling up next to Changmin, resplendent in leather or wool or plastic or some other fucking crazy material, when they try out the concept outfits tailored for one of their music videos.

"Changminnie, take a picture of me like this!" He will laugh, waving a handful of strawberries in one hand, a glass of soju in the other, whenever they have group dinners with their entourage. 

"Do you need me to smile?" He will enquire, not quite guilelessly, every time he looks up to find one of Changmin’s cameras trained on him; and does something to his bottom lip, that makes Changmin’s hands shake and the focus quiver. 

It has been years, a habit, or instinct, really, ingrained into him since the days where they were too poor to afford anything but a disposable Nikkon camera with their own money. Even now, with money and technology at his disposal, even with the digital point-and-shoots and macro four-thirds and DSLRs in his possession, Changmin continues to take pictures of Yunho with his eyes, his mind. 

He catalogues every smile, every laugh, every shout with his gaze, memorises them all. Because then, when he’s alone at home, when he’s away from Yunho, if he closes his eyes and remembers, he can see the up-tilted eyes, and the laugh lines underlining them. He can envision the straight blade of a nose, in his head, and the curvy mouth beneath. And if he concentrates hard enough, he can see the tone of Yunho’s voice, the shade of Yunho’s laugh, the hue of Yunho’s smile. 

Changmin likes to take pictures of Yunho, because he doesn’t know how not to, and because he doesn’t want to know how not to. 


	8. Ocean's Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this meme](http://wennytime.tumblr.com/post/81070769311/leave-one-of-the-following-in-my-ask-box-as-well-as), requested by [whatkindoftea](http://tmblr.co/mbJN33-w6TPFNaiDtUbTxOA).

"So this was why you refused to tell me where you were going," Yunho makes sure to keep his voice as neutral as possible, as he drops into the seat next to Changmin’s. His side of the conference table is littered with the remains of a burger and a mountain of chips.

 

The other man takes his sweet time swallowing about the mouthful of chips in his mouth, and speaks, voice still a bit garbled, “you weren’t exactly forthcoming as well, Yun. Or should I call you Danny?”

 

"Yah," Yunho kicks him in the shin. Gently. Maybe. "This is a professional work setting. We are colleagues at work. The only thing you should use to address me is ‘hyung’."

 

Changmin just moves his leg away and reaches for more chips. “No.” 

 

"Why." Yunho scowls and reaches over to steal a chip, but Changmin just drops his elbow on Yunho’s palm with more force than necessary -most likely as payback for the kick- and directs a glare in his direction. "Nuh uh, get your own."

 

"I just want one!" Yunho protests, but Changmin curves a protective arm about his chips. "Fuck off."

 

"It’s rude to eat on the job, anyway," straightening in his seat, Yunho folds his hands in front of him, on the table. Changmin stuffs another handful of chips into his mouth, until his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s and grins, deliberately flashing Yunho the lump of half masticated potato product in his mouth. "Dish quack’ter dev’lopment."

 

"Don’t speak with your mouth full," Yunho automatically nags, but all it does is earn him an unimpressed roll of the eyes from Changmin, and another swallow. "I’m a method actor, hyung. Didn’t you read through the script? Rusty eats all the time. Ergo. I’m going to eat all the time."

 

"Well, they certainly did get the right person to play Rusty Ryan, then," Yunho mutters, which earns him a chip to his head. He salvages it before it lands on the floor, however, and pops it into his mouth with no little triumph. 


	9. Pretty Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [For an Anon on Tumblr.](http://wennytime.tumblr.com/post/81186702640/pretty-woman-au-please)

[ ](http://wennytime.tumblr.com/post/81186702640/pretty-woman-au-please)

Sleep is not coming easy for Changmin tonight, and some neighbour of his in the floors below -no doubt high from doing lines of crack- is blasting an obnoxious R&B song that keeps cooing about chocolates and rabbits being honey and funny. Do rabbits even have a sense of humour? Changmin does not know. 

 

It takes him another ten minutes and the music getting progressively louder - and more irritatingly obnoxious- for him to realise that it is not coming from the actual building he lives in, but  _outside._  Directly outside of his window, to be specific.

 

He has a very bad feeling about this. 

 

Untangling himself from his blankets, he pushes open the window above his bed (which requires very little strength, because it does not quite close anymore, and that is good for Changmin, since he has been moping in bed for about a week), and sticks his head out. 

 

Yep. He is right. The music is coming from outside his window, where the rickety fire escape that no one uses anymore, is. There is music coming from his fire escape.

 

And unless he’s mistaken, there’s a  _hand_  grabbing onto the bars perpendicular to the wired floor of the fire escape. Two hands now. 

 

An arm, and a leg, and then the rest of a body follows, with a bouquet of red roses -nothing but roses tied together with a crimson satin ribbon- jammed in between its owner’s teeth. It is Yunho. Of  _course_  it is Yunho. 

 

Changmin is so busy gawking at Yunho pulling himself up the landing parallel to his room that he quite forgets his own vow to never see Yunho again, uttered exactly eight days ago. 

 

It takes Yunho spitting out the stems of the roses -already de-thorned and somewhat disappointing to Changmin’s more vicious side- and shoving them into his startled face for Changmin to remember the words he spat out at Yunho, and how the bastard had wanted to put him up in a little flat, hidden away like his dirty secret, like Changmin does not deserve more. 

 

 _But you don’t deserve more, darling, you’re a whore, remember? Just a whore,_ a little voice in him whispers, but Changmin ignores it resolutely to snarl at Yunho.

 

"What the fuck are you doing here? I told you, I never want to see you again."  

 

The roses get shoved further into his face, the dew on their petals tickling his nose and cheeks. Scowling, Changmin bats them away, only to be confronted by Yunho staring at him, painfully earnest. “I’m sorry, Changminnie. I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry I’m such a jerk, I’m sorry I’m a selfish idiot, I really love you, I do, I just… I’m so sorry.”

 

Something in Changmin softens at the way glib, eloquent Yunho is almost stuttering; and at the way Yunho’s fingers are clenched white about the rose stems; and at the way Yunho, acrophobic Yunho is standing on the old, rusty fire escape to his fifteenth storey flat, while trying valiantly not to glance down.

 

He presses his lips together. “Give the roses to me. You’re going to break them into half at this rate.”

 

Yunho hands them over, and asks, rather tentatively. “I… Can we talk? Can I come in?”

 

Changmin heaves a sigh and says with anger he does not really feel (but Yunho does not need to know that), “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine. Come in. And turn that song off will you? It’s noisy.”


End file.
